White-Out
by fragrantfields
Summary: 3 vignettes set pre-attacks, during the last big snowstorm in Caprica City, the snowstorm that shut everything down and turned the world white and icy. Kara & Karl go exploring, Laura ponders if she's lonely or just alone, Bill wishes he'd gotten snowed in anywhere but at his ex-wife's place.


The snowfall was unprecedented. In later years, after the fall of the colonies, the fall of everything, people would be too busy running or mourning or seeking their own oblivion to remember. At the time, though, it was remarkable, memorable. For a few days, it changed everything.

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"So, you're just going to ignore everything all the stations are saying?" Helo didn't know why he even bothered. Kara had slipped on her rubberized boots and wrapped her thickest scarf around her neck. The weather's challenge made her eyes sparkle, and he realized how bleak she'd really been since Zak. Maybe this was a good thing after all.

"C'mon, Helo! She might be a POS but she does have all-wheel drive and the tires aren't too bad."

He shook his head as she worked her way into a coat that was really not enough for the snowy blasts outside. Her internal engine was apparently enough to keep her warm. Out of loyalty, he edged away from thinking "manic" although it really would have been the best word for her right now.

"But why, Kara? Can you just tell me what it is you need out there so bad? We've got beer, food, they're showing a zombie marathon…" He didn't know why he tried. He was already suiting up himself, wishing he had something with ear flaps handy.

"Just want to see what's out there, Helo. We may never get a snow like this again. Maybe we can do a good deed, pull some poor frak out of a ditch or something. I've got chains in the back. It'll be fun."

"You're insane, you know that?" He grinned in spite of himself. The first sentence was where the truth was. She just wanted to see what was out there, see if she was up to the challenge.

It drove her through flight school, brought her into the fleet. What else could she do? He pulled the knit toboggan down further over her ears, like he'd do for one of his sisters if they were hare-brained enough to go out in this kind of weather.

He paused after shutting the door behind him, lungs filling with icy air. When he looked up, the swirling flakes looked like a star field against the iron-gray sky. He caught a dizzying sensation of falling up.

"Wonder if that's what it'll look like, when we're out in deep space?"

Kara blinked away white flakes that had settled on her lashes. Her nose was already pink, and she was grinning in a way he hadn't seen in a long time.

"You'll have lots of time to contemplate that when you're driving a Raptor bus, Helo. I'm gonna be too busy flying rings around your ass." She slammed the rusted door and started the engine, finally yanking the sticking shift into gear. "Once around town, see what's going on, then we come back, warm up in front of the fireplace." She grabbed his thigh and gave it a squeeze. "I'll make it worth your while."

He thought about telling her just being with her like this was worth it. She pulled out of the snow-covered spot and steered against a lurch to the left. The moment passed.

Maybe later.

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Laura could barely see the streetlights through the blizzard outside. When the radio announced all the governmental offices were closed, she was embarrassed at the relief she felt. No work meant no awkward, faux-passionate encounters in Richard's private office.

She wondered if he'd spend the day stuck at home with his wife, or if he'd find an excuse to be somewhere, anywhere else.

She sipped at a fragrant glass of merlot, enjoying the thread of heat as it filled her mouth. As long as it wasn't here.

There was a time when one or the other of them would have gone through hell and high water to be together, enjoy a few stolen hours while the world outside went on without them. No meetings, no urgent calls (at least not on her end). A ready-made excuse why he couldn't go home…last year, even, they would have taken full advantage of the gods-given opportunity.

Now it was an opportunity of a different sort. To be still, unthinking, able to just watch the drifts piling up on the streets below.

Her phone rang, jarring her from her contemplation.

Yes, she was safe, at home. No, she wouldn't go out. No, she didn't need anything.

Against the slightly plaintive note in his voice, she told him another no, she wasn't in the mood to do _that_ over the phone. What if his wife, or the press, got hold of incriminating phone records? Why would he be racking up so many minutes to the Secretary of Education during a weather shut-down? How would that look?

Anyway, she wanted to conserve the battery. What if the power went out? He pouted some more then finally hung up, leaving her to her wine and reverie as she stood by the window. She clicked the light off and pulled the sofa afghan around her shoulders. Tomorrow, it would be crisp and magical, and fathers and daughters would be out with sleds and skis, having snowball fights and making snow angels.

She'd enjoy seeing that again. Maybe this was the winter that kind of thing wouldn't make her throat close up with waiting tears.

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"You could stay here, you know. I've got room."

How could she make such a simple, basic sentence sound like an accusation? And that was her idea of…what? A peace offering? Bill shook his head, against her invitation and the thoughts in his head.

"I've got a call in to the base. Once it stops they'll send a transport to pick me up. I don't want to put you out." He scanned the kitchen that once had been half his. "You got everything you need? I can ask the driver to swing by the PX."

This was supposed to have been a thirty-minute stop, long enough to sign some papers on a joint piece of property he'd forgotten they owned together. That was three hours and a bottle of ambrosia ago. The new man in Carolanne's life may have slowed her drinking down when they were together, but let it be "Bill and Carolanne" again, even for a few hours, and some of the old baggage inevitably got unpacked.

They'd both reached for the bottle and glasses at the same time. The plain gold band he still wore looked out of place next to the citrine and diamond ring adorning her left hand. He says it goes beautifully with my hair, she'd smirked, tossing the shimmery artificial locks back like she had when she was a young woman and the color was real.

Bill should be able to remember her fiancé's name, but it always slipped away. Maybe after they were married, when they were all grandparents together. Lee seemed to be getting serious with his new girlfriend. He tipped his glass back then wiped his mouth, thinking of Lee and a bundled new baby. The image didn't quite gel in his head.

"I stocked up when I heard the weather forecast, Bill. I'm not a complete idiot. I know you think…" He tuned her out, putting her contentiousness down to more liquor than she'd become used to.

He glanced at a picture of Zak and Lee over the fireplace. Had they always had that strained look around the eyes? Lee must have been a senior, Zak a sophomore in high school. He had thought their discontent had been from their mother's restrictions, her expectations.

If Lee ever began talking to him again, he'd have to dig into how things had been for them, when he had been gone, flying off to this assignment or that base.

Or maybe he'd just leave all that alone. Things were settling down with Carolanne, Lee was making a career for himself…no need to rock this fragile boat.

He watched the white flakes blur and blinked his eyes until they cleared. When the boys were young, Zak would have been clamoring to go out into the snow, Lee half-heartedly chiming in with adolescent eye-rolls at his excited brother.

"Remember when the boys were younger, and we had that freak snowstorm?" Carolanne's voice was closer than he expected, and he turned away from the softening in her eyes, the memories he saw there.

There had been some good times. He'd think about that later, when they were miles apart. Think about what happened to those good times, what his role had been in the coming apart.

Later.

"I, uh…I brought some work with me. Mind if I use the dining room table? I'd like to get a couple of reports written up while I wait." He put his glass in the sink.

"You never change, do you, Bill? Work first, work always." She chuckled under her breath and refilled her glass. "One day, maybe you'll meet someone who changes that."

His eyes met hers over his opened briefcase and they shared a genuine laugh over that implausible prediction. Everything they knew about each other hung over them for just that second, then whirled away like the flakes outside.

"Stranger things have happened, but I wouldn't bet the rent on it."

"No," she said quietly, looking out at their backyard, the boys' swing set disappearing under the white. "Neither would I. You never know, though." She twisted her engagement ring around her finger.

He finished his reports just as the base driver pulled up.

Years later, on each one of their anniversaries, he'd try and fail to remember what his last words had been to his ex. He remembered giving her a hug, though. That had felt right, even through the awkwardness.

One day, when Laura was feeling better, when she'd gotten a good night's sleep, he'd have to ask her if she remembered the last great Caprican snowstorm. Maybe they could talk about what it would have been like to be snow-bound together.

Spin a little winter wonderland fantasy…he'd like that. He was pretty sure she would, too.


End file.
